


The joke is rather sad

by psychomachia



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deal with a Devil, F/M, Repeatedly Killed and Resurrected, Rough Sex, Time Loop, Treat, came back wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: It doesn't matter if Daniel and Grace remember the past. They're still doomed to repeat it.
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 134
Collections: Darkest Night 2020





	The joke is rather sad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).



### 2

He dies again.

Not from getting shot in the throat, which is definitely a plus, since choking to death on your own blood is such a great way to go. Why couldn't Charity have just done a head shot?

Oh, that's right. She's not used to being a fucking murderer like the rest of the family. That's what you get from marrying into old money. Mom seemed to have adjusted well to it though.

No, this time, he's in the car with Grace and they're driving away from his dysfunctional family. Admittedly, he could have tried to help her escape sooner, but he was sort of busy having an existential crisis over reliving the most fucked-up day of his life.

Who knew helping your family murder your aunt's new husband as a kid would actually have some competition?

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her dress streaked with blood. Not hers, thankfully, and he's sort of too drunk and manic to really care which one of his family members it might be.

“Look, my family made a deal with the devil which is why they're trying to kill you and I know Alex is really sorry about this, so maybe if we live through this--”

Grace waves her hand dismissively. “No, he'll probably just try to kill me again. The question is why are you helping me?” She looks at him, and he recognizes that same look in her eyes.

It's the “oh, fuck, we're going through this shit all over again?”

“Wait!” They both say at the same time.

And then the crossbow bolt goes through his head.

### 17

“Fuck, Daniel,” Grace says. She's crawling on the ground, spitting out blood on the rug. “Your family really sucks.” Her dress is pretty much soaked through at this point, and there's at something sticking out her shoulder.

Could be another bolt. Could be a bone.

He's only got the use of one eye, so it's hard to tell.

“Tell me about it,” he says. “Can you imagine growing up with them?”

Grace pushes his wife's corpse to the side. The head rolls off into the corner. “I guess I don't have to,” she says. “Considering I'm going to grow old repeating this day over and over.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I'd get drunk to forget about it, but I don't think black-outs carry over the time loops.”

Grace laughs, and it's weaker this time. They're both slowing down now. Too much loss of blood and a bullet in your back will do that. “Is it me or are they getting more accurate?”

“You know what they say.” He reaches for her hand, grasps it. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Well, fuck us, I suppose.”

There's the sound of footsteps. Who's still left? Daniel can't even keep track anymore, each day blurring into the next. He's sort of started getting used to dying.

Maybe he'll get used to the pain next. Something to look forward to.

“Daniel!” Alex says, running over to him. “Grace!”

He sees Grace try to roll her eyes and doesn't even bother with his. “Alex,” he says and hopes, prays, says, this time things will be different. “Take Grace and go.”

“Daniel--” she whispers. “No.”

Alex looks between the two of them, at the bodies of the floor. “Is that--?” and his voice wavers. He looks closer. “Is that Mom?”

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel breathes out and waits for the shot.

### 53

“Let's play a game,” Dad says, and Daniel and Grace look at each other.

“Do we have a choice?” Grace asks. “I'm only asking because I'm a little sick of your family fun days.”

“Hey, now wait, Grace,” Daniel says. “I think we've come up with at least a few board games that don't end in ritual human sacrifice.”

Dad only smiles thinly. There's corpses propped up on chairs around them. Sorry, Alex, Daniel thinks. I'm really trying to be a good brother, but constantly getting shot is really testing my resolve.

“Daniel,” he says, and oh, hey, it's that same tone he uses when he's deeply disappointed in his son. Daniel guesses getting an F in Biology really is the same as refusing to murder your sister-in-law. “You know why we have to do this. It's not like we want to.”

“Sure.” Grace starts to laugh, a little hysterical, but at least now Daniel's not the only one that thinks it's all a big fucking joke. “You just decided you know, fuck a few people. If it means we get to survive, what's a few lives here and there. You know, you guys are the living advertisement for guillotines.”

He'd high-five her for that one, but his hands are tied down, so he just has to nod. “Seriously, fuck the rich,” he says. “Myself included.”

Dad sets a knife down on the table. “Never taking anything seriously,” he says and he reaches over, unties Daniel's wrists. They're bloody and abraded, but his fingers aren't broken, so it's already a plus. “So how about this? You stab Grace here and there, and I'll let you walk away.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “Really, Dad? I'm not a kid anymore. You think I can't--”

“Then Grace,” he says, walking over to her and untying her as well. “Cut his throat and I promise I'll make your death quick.”

“Yeah, no,” she says. “I don't really think you have any leverage.” Besides the butler holding the shotgun, but really, was Daniel going to launch himself across the table and try to take Dad out?

Daniel may be an asshole with a drinking problem, but he learns from his mistakes. Getting your head blown off will do that to you.

“I see,” Dad says, taking the knife off the table. “I guess I have to give you some motivation.”

He jabs the knife straight into Daniel's side and he screams.

Fuck, you'd think he'd be used to this, but he's not and fuck fuck fuck, Dad's just twisting in it and--

“Stop it!” Grace yells. “He's your fucking son.”

“Stay out of this,” Dad replies, and Daniel can see the madness in his eyes. The longer this goes, he thinks, the more it repeats, the less he can recognize his family anymore.

Or maybe he's finally seeing them broken down to their core, to their bones and blood that only admits outsiders if they're willing to curse themselves the same way.

Mom did. Fitch did. Charity did.

Grace--

She looks at him.

“No,” he says. She's not turning into you. She's not going to--

“Yes,” Dad answers.

An hour later, he wins.

“I'm sorry, Daniel,” Grace says and he can barely make her out through the blood that runs down his face. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” and there's a sharp pain at his throat.

### 115

“You know your dad lied,” Grace whispers into his ear. They're hiding in one of the side rooms, drinking a bottle of whiskey. It's old hat now.

“About what?” he says. “There's a really long list at this point.”

She takes a swig. “It wasn't quick,” she says. “And it hurt a whole fucking lot.”

It would. Dad would make sure of it. “So what do you think it'll be this time around? Me, personally, I'm betting on pool cue. I don't think we've done that one in a while.”

“True,” Grace says. “But I wouldn't rule out getting a fireplace poker to the throat. I think Helene grabbed it this time around and you know how much she hates me.”

“I mean, hate is a strong word. I'd say it's more of a loathing combined with jealousy and a little bit of classism thrown in.” Daniel finishes the bottle, sets it down. “Plus you're young and pretty and--”

“Shut up,” Grace says and kisses him.

This is a terrible idea, Daniel thinks. You're both drunk, on the run from murderous family, and she's technically still married to your brother.

But you are made of terrible ideas.

“What the hell,” he says, and kisses back.

Naturally, that's when Helene finds them.

Grace can't really talk, as the poker is wedged in her throat, but the look in her eyes speaks volumes.

I told you so.

### 230

They fuck now, more often than not.

It's not gentle, it's not slow and long, it's not a tender exploration of each other's bodies where they fall asleep exhausted in each other's arms and wake in the morning to kiss each other before making breakfast.

For one thing, the kitchen's usually on fire at this point.

But it is satisfying to have something that just belongs to them. Daniel fucks her against a wall, or on the grass, or in one memorable case, on the pool table right before Emilie walked in and began screaming her head off.

Daniel refuses to apologize. It's not as though the kids haven't seen worse.

And fuck, does it feel good.

“Grace,” Daniel whispers and nips at her neck. The marks don't carry over but it doesn't matter. She'll know he made them each time she wakes up again.

Nothing lasts, but sometimes, there's a phantom that haunts them on waking and Grace can feel where fingers left bruises as Daniel bent her against the table. Daniel can feel the sting of nails that raked down his back, a ghost of a bloody kiss pressed to his mouth.

Everything haunts them these days, sex and death and time that repeats itself over and over into madness.

Daniel comes inside her, and she shudders, pulling him closer. “Someday,” she mouths against him. “Someday, this will end.”

The door opens.

### 315

_It doesn't have to be this way._

The voice comes from around them, and yet no one's reaching forward with a pitchfork or a crossbow, so it can't be one of the family.

“You heard that, right?” Grace says. “Sinister booming voice that echoes in your mind?”

“Very horror movie,” Daniel agrees. “So...”

_Aren't you getting tired?_

“Obviously.” Grace sits down on one of the hay bales, her shoes still squelching from accumulated blood. “But I'm guessing you're going somewhere with this.”

“Mr Le Bail, is it?” Daniel asks, already knowing the answer. “We're all ears.”

_We could make a deal._

“Oh sure,” Grace shrugs. “Making a deal with the devil always works out well.”

“True.” Daniel leans against the wall. At some point, he really should bandage up his leg, but he's tired and sore and there's a demonic voice sending a chill down his spine, so priorities. “Why on earth would you want to help us out? Haven't you already won?”

_There's always a new game to be played._

In the end, the barn catches on fire and they die from smoke inhalation, but tomorrow...

Well, that's another day.

### 365

They die.

They all die.

Explosions of blood and gore and the house burns to the ground, leaving nothing behind but a mess that will never be truly sorted out.

They talk about the Le Domas family in certain circles.

“Did you hear?” Cecily Favell whispers. “Everything was gone. They're saying even the business collapsed. The estate's going to be tied up in lawsuits for years. Not that there's anyone left to inherit.”

Her husband snorts. “They fucked it up. They lost the game,” he says. “We're not stupid like them.” He takes a flute of champagne from off the tray. “That's why you have to be careful about who you let into your family.”

“I couldn't agree more,” the blonde waitress says, smiling. Her sharp teeth gleam as she licks her lips very carefully. “You never know who might fuck it all up for you.”

“Excuse me?” Cecily looks at the woman, prepares to open her mouth to tell her exactly where her proper place is, and then she stops. Her face goes pale.

The waitress walks away.

“What was that?” her husband hisses. “You just let her--”

Cecily starts shaking. “We need to leave,” she murmurs. “Right now.”

“Cecily--”

“Now, Robert!”

They set their glasses down, make their way past the very top of society. Wealthy families, with old money and older traditions.

And one very unspoken thing in common.

There's a young man at the door, his head down, swigging from a glass of champagne.

“Move,” Robert says brusquely. “Now.”

And the man raises his face. His eyes gleam.

“Oh, you don't want to leave now,” he says. “Not when the game's just getting started.”


End file.
